Here Again
by achildofthestars
Summary: HouseCam. Future fic. He's been dead for years, but she hadn't stepped foot into his study, their study. Est. Hameron as she explores the one room in the house they'd bought. Expect short flashbacks.Last chap up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is bones4life presenting a 5 chapter story, titled "Here Again." This is actually the very first story I've written completely before posting it anywhere. It was very strange. Anyways, read, review, like, hate. Thanks for stopping by.  
**

**Est House/Cam of course. Takes place about 4 years after House died. **

**Insert Disclaimer here: DOH. Don't Own House. **

* * *

The doorknob squeaks in her tired hands, screaming after so long a slumber, and she nearly stops in the act. Her eyes close softly as she exhales a breath she's been holding. Swallowing, she turns the knob all the way, refusing to lose this game of sound and silence. 

Her right hand forces the door to swing open on its hinges, allowing her to see what it's been hiding. Sunlight peeks in through the curtained windows and she can see the dust flurries waltzing in the stale air. In the doorway, she finds herself caught between past and present, then and now, found and lost. She can't turn back now.

She needs to dust. Even her footprints leave proof of where she's trekked. The bookshelf on her right, lines the entire wall, and she can't help but reach out to caress the spines of the books closest. He'd built this mammoth shelf himself.

_He couldn't stop smiling as she walked in through the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she looked at him covered in sawdust and chalk, at the floor she'd spend an hour cleaning up, and his hand which he'd wrapped with two huge bandages. Stuck, she didn't move._

"_So, I was thinking instead of buying an expensive, wieldy bookshelf, that I'd make one."_

_She mouthed his name before her vocal cords finally got the message. "House..."_

_She called him House. Oh, he was in trouble. _

"_You know I love you?"_

_The look of murder on her face made him drop his smile, but as she walked to him and forced him to let her examine his hand, he smiled again as she sneezed._

The medical books haven't been opened in years, his and hers collections on their respective left and right sides of the shelf. Some of these are probably outdated; they could be thrown out just fine. Reading a few random titles, she smiles as she comes across the Lupus section. One book she'd put in as he'd arched an eyebrow.

"_It's never lupus!"_

"_If it was never lupus, why would there be thousands of books about it?"_

"_Because people are idiots."_

"_Yeah? Well, you're an idiot."_

"_So are you."_

"_You more."_

"_You mostest."_

Her new book collection is in the room beside the bedroom. She'd bought the bookshelf. Some of the books she'd had to buy again are the ones she can see now.

Walking to the end of the bookshelf, she meets the large window. The dark blue fabric is a shadow of its former beauty, much like herself. Hesitantly, her fingers grasp the fabric, surprised that it's still strong after this time of neglect. Straightening her shoulders, she rapidly pulls the curtain to the left, closing her eyes as the sun threatens to blind her. After a few bright moments, she looks out the window which also needs to be cleaned. Their tiny yard is still green, holding a barely mentionable garden. Without realizing it, the right side of her mouth quirks up.

"_A garden?"_

"_Yeah. What? Quit laughing! It's not funny." She slapped his shoulder as she stood up to put the dishes into the sink._

"_Allison, you're good at getting flowers, not keeping them alive."_

"_I love flowers."_

_He sighed as she turned on the sink, her back taut with tension. He stood, his cane left on the table. Walking behind her, he braced his hands on either side of the counter, effectively locking her in. _

"_Allison."_

"_House."_

_There was that damned House again. _

"_Tulips. Grow tulips."_

Turning around, she focuses on the chair directly in front of her. Made of soft, brown leather, the sofa had seen many a greater day. There were a few burn marks here and there from the cigar he'd smoked too distractedly. Her fingers dance upon the leather, the scent bringing back fond memories of reading half-way in his lap, waking up to find him looking out the window in front of her, and even making love very awkwardly that one night after he'd solved another case. If it weren't so dusty, she'd sit in it. She settles for touching the faded bite marks.

"_Cameron!"_

_She held the phone further from her ear, grimacing at his bellowing._

"_She's just a puppy."_

"_Oh, no, no, no. This is not a puppy! It's not even a dog! It's...it's...Cuddy in fur!"_

"_Greg, I couldn't just let her stay in the pouring rain."_

"_What? Afraid its perm would come out? Git!"_

_She heard the playful barking and as much as she tried, couldn't help but grin._

"_You come home tonight and get rid of this mongrel..."_

"_Greg? Greg?!"_

_On the other end, "No! No! That's my chair! My $800 leather chair!"_

Thinking of which, Eebies had better fallen asleep because if she knew her owner had finally gone into the study without her, the blind old mutt would have a severe tantrum.

Her head turns to the right, pulled by long ignored instinct, taking in the other half of the study. She's not ready to touch the other things, so she starts with the globe.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Disclaimer: DOH. Fox/Shore do.**

* * *

The fake gold arm has turned to tarnished metal, chipped and cracking at certain spots. Resting on a plain wooden stand she'd once housed in her apartment, the antique globe barely comes to the top of her waist. He'd never saw the point of it. Actually, a few times, he'd tried to pawn it off to Wilson while they were still living in his apartment. She likes it. Gingerly, her fingers touch Africa, somewhere between a smudged Libya and a once water soaked Chad. 

"_It was all him."_

"_What?! No, it was all him!" Wilson pointed his finger at House, who was still pointing at him._

"_Tattletale!"_

"_You're the one who ratted on me!"_

"_You're supposed to be my bestest friend! Take the fall so I can still get laid."_

"_Wilson, would you mind leaving us alone?"_

_He shook his head before glancing to House. "See you. Maybe."_

"_Oh, shut up," House muttered._

"_And take those damn water guns with you!"_

"_Uh, sure thing."_

"_Whipped," House snickered, watching as Wilson did as he was told._

"_Shut up, House."_

_The door closed and for the first time, his heart fluttered as he looked at her. Pure...rage. _

"_Kid--."_

"_Stop," she replied softly, her arms crossing her chest as she signaled she would not be won over by her nickname. Her mouth clenched tightly. "I don't want to hear it."_

_This was it. He felt it deep down to his core, and suddenly he fought it. She'd wanted him this whole time, and one stupid water gun fight was not about to change her mind, or his for that matter._

"_It's just a globe."_

"_It's just my memory."_

"_Your dad wouldn't care if you have a globe that looks like one he had."_

_She picked the globe up by the golden arm and headed towards the sink. "I do."_

Shaking her head, she remembers that first trying year when she'd still been Cameron and he'd still been House. So many times it had almost ended for good, and each time, one of them hadn't backed down from the challenge. With a careful push, the globe spins on its axis, just like before.

"_What do you want?"_

"_My leg hurts. Thought a doctor should look at it."_

_Her eyebrows rose as she signed her signature on some patient files at the front desk. "Go ask Cuddy."_

_He rested beside her on the station and watched as a new resident stitched a man's arm. So, she knew about his and Cuddy's make-out session. "My reputation precedes me."_

"_It always has," she responds, leaning far over to try and grab some departmental paperwork. One foot off the ground and her body completely stretched, her fingers tickled the papers. Without warning, she felt the warmth of his body pressing almost on top of hers and she instinctively tried to pull herself away. When he gave the papers to her, she could have sworn that this time, his fingers lingered on hers. _

"_House?"_

_He looked at her with that look that would never quite leave her, the one that seemed to be only for her. _

"_You're right. I should go ask Cuddy."_

_His back to her, she rested her hands on her hips. "Robert's leaving!"_

"_He had to run out of hair product sometime."_

_She waited until he'd turned back to her. "You should tell him goodbye."_

"_What for?"_

_Without replying, she turned back to her paperwork, never knowing until years later, that on his way back to the office, he'd found Chase. _

Just two feet between them, the white board looms above the globe, though at this point, she's sure it's cream, not white. And there, scribbled in dark, near illegible letters, are four words: Milk, Toilet Paper, Peanut Butter, My Soul.

Her eyes burn, but she doesn't stop herself from touching the cool hardness of the board. She barely remembers a time when her life didn't involve this inanimate object.

"_Hey."_

_He didn't say anything from where he stood in front of the board in the conference room. _

_She'd come to expect this when he was working on a difficult case. It didn't mean she'd be defeated._

"_You going home tonight?"_

_A shrug of his shoulders was all she received. _

_Nodding her head, she made a note that this was the third time in two weeks she'd wait for him at his apartment for him to not show. _

"_I guess I won't stop by then."_

"_Okay."_

_The brooding silence sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn't sure if she was prepared for this, for him. _

"_If you're hungry, I could stop by that new Chinese place. I know they're complete germophobes, and the take-out boxes are faulty, but it doesn't mean the food's not good. What are you--."_

_The marker slammed down at the same time he grabbed his cane. As he limped past her, he leaned in close to her._

"_Kid." He loved that the name made her shiver. "You better be naked by the time I get to my place."_

* * *

**A/N: So...still good? And the middle flashback was just...idk, I guess I wanted to show the pre-HouseCam. And fyi, we're not going to go in depth in their relationship since it's just 5 chaps. **

**Many thanks for you guys for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, this and the last 2 chaps focus on one object in the study. Hope you guys still like. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: DOH. **

* * *

Stepping past the board, she meets the not bare wall. The pictures she'd hung here always seemed to annoy him. It's why he'd placed the white board in front of them. Two of them are just photos of herself. The next one has House and Wilson attempting to play pin the tail on the donkey; though the donkey's face is covered with Cuddy's picture. Below those is one picture of Eebies and him together. She's in her favorite position, asleep on his feet, as he watches t.v. The last one is a combined photo frame. 

The left side shows them together, sitting side by side.

"_Just one!"_

"_No! If I want to look at myself, I'll look in a mirror."_

"_It's just a picture. We've been together for two years. I want a momento."_

"_Momento? For what?"_

"_I didn't tell you? Javier and I are running off together to Spain in a few days. I want a reminder of what I'm running away from."_

"_Good. That means I can finally come out with Jimmy."_

_She rolled her eyes as she walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk._

"_You're such a big baby."_

"_Does that mean I get breastmilk?"_

"_Ha. It means you won't see breasts until you take the damn picture."_

The right side is of them sitting side by side again, though this time age has marked their course.

"_You gotta get my bald spot and her wrinkles."_

"_Gregory House! I am forty-four years old with just the hint of fine lines."_

"_Same difference, Kid."_

_She sighed as he smiled. The nickname had long ago turned into an ironic oxymoron._

"_Wilson, let's just get this over with." _

_Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, Wilson fought the urge to shake his head. After so many years of listening to the two of them, one would think he'd be used to the idea of them together._

"_Ready, lovebirds?" he asked as they both half-snorted, half-guffawed._

Really, the only difference between the two pictures, besides their age, would be the ring on her finger in the latter one. Her left hand caressing the frame, she feels the glass clinking with the silver band.

"_Shelter?"_

"_No."_

"_Wilson?"_

"_No."_

"_Homeless guy?"_

"_No! We are not getting rid of Eebies. We've had her for over a year. She's staying."_

"_I am not an animal person."_

"_Then why do you let her sleep on your feet?"_

"_Because they get cold."_

_She took a sip from her drink as his cell phone began to ring. _

"_I'm busy here."_

_The waitress came over to their table and she placed their orders._

"_Give him IVIG and monitor him for..."_

_As soon as he trailed off, she saw that look of his. It was why she wasn't surprised as he stood and limped away to the bathroom with the phone pressed firmly to his ear._

_A few minutes later, while she was reading the newspaper, she heard him sit opposite her._

"_Everything okay with your patient?"_

"_Perfect."_

_For a moment, she froze. Slowly, she lowered the newspaper down to look at the stranger sitting in House's seat. _

"_Do I know you?"_

"_No, but that can change real soon."_

_She chuckled as she shook her head. The good looking man had no idea what was coming. _

"_I'm with somebody."_

"_That old cane guy?"_

"_That's my Indian name. The name on my driver's license says, Gregory House. Gal's mine. Get lost, young feller."_

_As he resumed his seat, she folded the newspaper and smiled at him._

"_What?" he asked gruffly._

_She shook her head. "You're not old."_

_Two nights later, as she turned down the covers, she noticed him swallowing an extra vicodin._

"_Your leg alright?"_

"_Yeah," was his short reply._

_By now, she knew he'd tell her at his own pace. She slipped into the bed and pulled the covers over her. Whenever he didnt' move to get in, she opened her eyes to find him standing by his side of the bed._

"_Greg, what's wrong?"_

"_He was an attractive, young, two-legged man."_

"_Who?"_

"_The guy," he motioned with his arms, " at the restaurant the other night."_

"_I guess. Why are--?"_

"_They're always good looking, young, able bodied guys who try to pick you up."_

_She frowned and remained silent._

"_And they always ask you if you're married."_

_The frown deepened._

"_And you're not, so of course they think they have a chance."_

"_Are you...asking--."_

"_I don't want to get married," he said softly.  
_

_She counted the seconds as she watched him hold his breath. Was he really worried about this?_

"_Neither do I."_

"_You don't?"_

_It'd been four years and it struck her as odd that this was the first conversation they'd had about it. _

"_I guess it's a 'been there, done that' sort of thing. And I've always known you didn't want to."_

_He looked at her, and she wondered how he could do that without giving a hint as to what he was thinking. Then, before she could blink, he tossed the black box at her. _

"_This way, I won't have to fend off every moron who keeps going after you. The ring should stop the smart ones. And they never have to know you're not really married."_

She's worn it ever since.


	4. Chapter 4

With her back to the wall, she stares at the wooden desk on the opposite wall. Above it rests a stereo he'd often load with his CDs while he was tinkering with whatever he could find. She walks casually across the room, finally pulling the almost comfortable chair from the seating area of the desk and sitting. Carefully, she slides the plastic over the very last machine he'd worked on. She doesn't even remember what it was.

_She stretched as she finally stood, the book she'd been reading in one hand and her glasses in the other. Even from here she could see the concentration painted on his face. Ordinarily, she wouldn't bother him. It wouldn't be the first time, or even the twentieth time that they'd gone for days without speaking. She missed him this time around, however, so she walked over to his desk._

"_It looks...good."_

"_You don't even know what it is."_

"_Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."_

_He didn't respond. She watched his fingers deftly twist a few wires, scratch at some rust, and gently pry the backing off of some projection. He finally stopped and pulled the glasses away from his face as he looked at her. She smiled, not caring that he frowned at her._

"_What are you smiling for?"_

_She wanted to say, 'Because you took your glasses off for me, fool.' She didn't._

"_This is the first time we've talked in four days."_

"_Not our personal best."_

_Shrugging, she rested one hand on the back of his seat. "You can start ignoring me tomorrow."_

_He almost chuckled. His hands went to rub his eyes. "What'd you disrupt me for, Kid?"_

"_I missed you."_

"_You would."_

"_Ha. Ha. Really, what is it?"_

"_Dunno."_

"_You don't know?"_

"_It was in the trash at the thrift store. I was curious."_

"_That's your excuse for everything."_

_They both turned at the sound of paws on wood floor. _

"_There's the bitch."_

"_Greg!"_

"_What? She is."_

_Eebies happily walked up to them before biting at his barely covered ankles. Still a puppy, it'd been easy for him to push her away with a firm push._

"_She loves you."_

_He quickly moved to grab his cane before the puppy tried to run off with it. With a shake of his head, he picked the mutt up and placed it into her arms. With his hands, he motioned for her to leave. She did._

He always did like to sit right here when he wasn't watching tv, solving a case, drinking with Wilson, or reading the latest medical news. Sometimes he'd rummage across the nearby shelf for forgotten projects. She also remembers him running away to here after every fight.

"_I don't know what you want me to say."_

"_I want you to say you're sorry!"_

"_I told you I didn't want to go in the first place!"_

"_My brother was getting married! I wanted him to finally meet you!"_

"_And we did!"_

"_You called his fiancee a philandering alcoholic!"_

"_And I was right!"_

_She closed her mouth, crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and stared him down._

_He blew out an angry breath and gripped his cane tighter. He wasn't about to break the silence._

"_He doesn't even want to speak with me."_

"_He's your brother. He'll get over it," he replied shortly._

"_I swear," she shook her head and brought her hand up to rub her mouth.  
_

"_What? You swear what? Go on, finish your thought."_

_She wanted to say it. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to let the words fly out. Angry, she didn't fight._

"_Sometimes, I think I hate you, House."_

_He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected her to say it sometime. Three and a half years together hadn't given him any security. It still hit him harder than he'd thought it would._

"_Finally done with trying to fix me? Throwing in the towel after failing to meet your neediness goals?"_

"_House, stop it."_

_He reached into his jacket for vicodin. He made sure she watched him as he swallowed two, and then followed it with the beer on the coffee table._

"_Stop what?"_

_At the time, she was going to say everything. The pills. The drinking. The drugs. The sarcasm. The pain._

"_Just because you can't handle--."_

"_I'm handling everything fine! You're the one up on your high horse about every little thing! If you can't take it, then maybe it's time you leave."_

"_That way it would prove all your theories! Right?"_

"_I'm tired of you thinking you know me! So what if we're together! You don't give a damn about me! You're in love with my leg and the way you think you help me!"_

_He didn't wait for her response. She watched him limp into the study and slam the door behind him. She hadn't realized the tears were crawling down her face until she tasted the salt on her lips. Damn him._

She slides the plastic back over the mysterious machine. She doesn't even remember what made her go back that night after she'd packed a bag, determined to never see him again. She doesn't even know why he'd let her back in.

_She held her chin high, not about to let him see her pain. The palm of her hand still stung from banging on the front door, not willing to use her key and needing him to face her. _

_He hadn't said anything to her. Frankly, he wasn't even sure he could talk correctly considering his tongue felt two inches thick and there were two of her on the doorstep. As she brushed past him, he smelled the scent of her and nearly groaned._

_Sitting on their couch, she watched him limp haphazardly towards her. _

"_Sit down before you fall down."_

"_I don't neeeeeed... ta set."_

_With a sigh, she walked into the kitchen and came back with a cool rag, knowing she'd spend the night taking care of him. _

"_What...wadja...doin? You said...ya was leavin."_

"_I didn't say that. And even if I did, everybody lies."_

* * *

**A/N: So, the just to make it clear. The machine she was looking at is not the same one he was working on in the first flashback. And...there's only 1 chapter left, so that's good. Hope you guys are still finding this entertaining. Thanks! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Disclaimer: DOH. **

**Last chap! And by lack of reviews, I can tell this shall be the last of stories with flashbacks lol. Before you get started, I just want to say thanks. Thanks! And thanks! **

**How House died? Dunno...old age? Nothing too angsty. It's been a pleasure, friend-os. Here's bones4life, flipping a quarter. Call it. **

* * *

Sometimes, most times, whenever she dreams, she hears the notes drifting from this room. Every time when she's awake, she knows she'll never hear those same notes from this instrument again. She keeps her distance from the piano, not sure if four years is enough to dull the ache residing in her broken heart. Nestled in the farthest corner where the light from the window would let him read the music, he'd played almost every night. 

_She waited for him to complete the piece before moving to sit beside him on the bench. Her eyes watched his fingers effortlessly glide over the keys, randomly at first, and then up and down a scale. _

"_Seven years today." _

_Her voice is quiet and he has to strain to hear her. "Really? For what?"_

"_Amazingly, yes. And it's our dating anniversary." She hadn't expected him to remember._

"_What'd you get me?"_

"_A walker so you can keep up with me."_

"_Yeah? We'll see who needs a walker tomorrow." He winked to show her that tonight, he had a few ideas of breaking in the new mattress. At her blush, he smiled and began to play a slow, melodic, piece._

_Her eyes closed and even though it would make it harder for him to play, she rested her head on his shoulder._

"_Greg?"_

_He grunted questioningly._

"_I love you."_

_Silent until the last bar, he finished and let his hands stay on the keys before moving to hold her chin. She was more beautiful now than eleven years ago when he'd first set eyes on her. She'd given up so much to just be with him. Children. Marriage. Stability. Normalcy. Instead of saying the words, he leaned into her and captured her lips, making sure she knew he would never let her go again._

Reaching into her back pocket for the dust rag, she wipes down the bench and finds herself hesitant. The black, mammoth piano is the one object that is absolutely his, him. Shakily, she sits, not realizing her hands are trembling more than any other part of her body. He'd think it an atrocious act that she had let his baby become littered with dust and left un-tuned for so long. Even the sheet music has yellowed with unforgettable age.

_She didn't want to think about him being in the hospital, in surgery, in danger. One hollow sound filled the room and the thought flitted across her starved brain that she could very well have been the pianist herself. Her father had wanted her to learn so badly, though her hands had thought differently. _

_When she saw her phone vibrate on top of the piano, she made no move to answer it. What if it was bad news? What if he had died? What if Wilson had died? Liver transplants these days were common, but it didn't stop the woman in her from worrying. _

"_Hello," she found herself saying._

"_They're both in recovery. It looks good."_

_She was glad no one but Eebies would see her cry into her hands._

The one thing she'd remembered to do four years ago, was to slide the covering over the precious keys. Taking a deep breath, she lifts the hard wood up and back, startled that somehow the keys still look presentable. Gently, her right index fingers slide across the center keys, not bold enough to press down with the strength he'd commanded.

_His strong fingers danced between her shoulder blades, crossed down her bare back, and finally teased her at the place where sheet met skin. On her stomach, she sucked in a breath. His very small chuckle lightened her heart, though as his large hands began to caress her buttock, she found her heart was now pounding heavily. These past few nights had more than surpassed her musings as a 'Pre-House dating' Cameron._

"_The greatness of youth."_

"_Miss it?"_

"_I'm still young."_

"_In mind maybe."_

_His hand stopped rubbing. "That near marathon last night was not for an old man."_

"_Well," she turned over, not lost to the fact that the sheet did not cover her breasts. "I bet you can't do it again."_

"_Is that a challenge?" He eyed her small chest._

_Leaning on her side, she let her finger trail down his bare chest, make a circle around his belly button, and then dip lower to encircle his shaft. She would never be able to forget how much control she had over him in this position._

"_I'll take it easy on you, old man," she whispered huskily as she pushed him on his back with her free hand._

_Swallowing hard, her ministrations nearly driving him insane, he grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and pulled her on top of him so he could kiss her senseless, and she did the same for him. _

"_Bring it, Kid."_

_She guided herself onto him, not willing to wait any longer since she'd finally got him._

Accidentally, her pinky presses down on a 'G'. The awkward note lingers in the quiet air, a mocking reminder that nothing is the same. Everything is off key, wrong, misguided. The gasp escapes her long before she realizes she's been holding her breath, trying to keep her composure. One tear always leads to a second. She slams the wooden covering over the keys, relishing the harsh and finite tone.

_There weren't many at the funeral. Cuddy had been there, aged beautifully. Wilson was there, his eyes never quite believing his bestfriend was in the coffin. Foreman had shown up, respectful and saddened. Chase had been there first, his face holding something close to genuine grief and mourning. Even Taub and Kutner had showed, along with some later ex-fellows House had tossed around. 13 had died long ago._

_He would have loved that it was brilliantly sunny and warm that day. She thought it was funny, even in her situation. The pastor said a few words, having already been told by her that something short, simple, and as less preachy as possible, be said. If there was some afterlife after this, then she didn't want Greg telling her it'd been hypocritical and idiotic to have the pastor preach over his dead body. _

_They each said a few words, humor edged with the bitter taste of melancholy. Wilson's words almost tore her heart out on the spot. When it came to her turn, she couldn't find her tongue. She'd been in this place one too many times. The words had finally left her, reminding her that nothing she'd say would mean anything. _

_The dirt covered his coffin; she'd stayed there until dusk settled in. He'd been a part of her for so long, she knew she was no longer herself. He was missing. He was gone. He'd taken a huge piece of her with him and she wasn't surprised. He'd always been a taker. With no one around, she sobbed near his head stone. Anyone looking on, would have turned away, not able to stand the sight of a woman newly lost._

Enough is never enough. She makes her way across the room and with her hand resting on the doorknob, she pauses. As much as this room kills her spirit, she needs to take one last look before locking the door once more. All the memories lead her here. Here leads her all the way to her memories. She can't escape. She's not sure she wants to because her memories are all she'll have until she dies and whatever is_after,_ claims her.

"Gregory House." The room doesn't reply. "I...miss you," her voice cracks and she walks out of the room for the last time, closing the door with regretful satisfaction.

"_I like this house, House."_

_He leaned against the wall, watching her stare up at the ceiling before looking to him for a response. He shrugged._

_Rolling her eyes, she asked "Do you?"_

"_It's a house."_

_Closing the distance between them, she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows._

"_We've looked at ten houses these past two weeks and you found something wrong with each one. So, tell me. Greg, do you like this one?"_

"_Why even bother asking me? You know if you really want it you're going to bug me about it till I cave."_

"_We're looking for our own house." She took one more step forward and caged him in with her arms on either side of the wall by his torso. "It needs to be...us."_

_Looking down at her, the rest of the room, and even at the realtor, he softly banged his head against the wall. _

"_Okay, Kid. We've got ourselves a house."_

_With a small scream, she threw her arms around him careful not to hit his leg, and not catching the smile gracing his lips. Pulling slightly back, she kissed him brazenly, not caring if the realtor was watching. _

_Finally breathing, she rested her head against his chest. "I love you, Greg."_

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you too."_

.end._  
_


End file.
